


i should tell you, i've got baggage too

by TheRangress



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Discussion of Ableism, M/M, Past Ableist Abuse, also ok it's not that shippy but it's still Kalarin ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRangress/pseuds/TheRangress
Summary: Renarin was easy to understand. Kaladin wasn’t sure he liked that.





	i should tell you, i've got baggage too

The night was young, but not too young.

The firelight cast long shadows, the scent of stew lingering long after they’d eaten every bowl clean. The dance Rock was teaching to Sigzil had long since disintegrated into laughter, other dances still going strong around them.

Kaladin didn’t dance, but he sang. Renarin was the only other man left sitting, bouncing in time.

Maybe he’d dance. Maybe he’d ask Renarin. He had never joined in the dancing before. Every night he’d stayed apart, unwilling to let his guard down, unwilling to stop holding himself separate from his men. Now, heady with night and the drumbeat played on a stewpot, he thought about throwing himself in.

It could be something beautiful.

Lopen got there first, pulling Renarin up by the hand.

There was a brief moment of stillness. One sharp movement, Renarin pulled his wrist far back. He was wide-eyed and still again before he finally softened, shoulders relaxing. He forced a smile, tucking a golden lock back behind his ear, and offered his hand.

“My apologies. You caught me by surprise.”

“Oh? I thought you did not wish to dance with the Lopen.” He cast his eyes Kaladin’s way.

“Of course I’ll dance with you. I don’t know how, but…”

“The Lopen will teach you.”

With that they spiraled off into the night, and there was a pit deep in Kaladin’s stomach.

He knew.

~

“Prince Renarin,” he called. Renarin turned sharply, with a salute.

“There’s no need to call me ‘prince’, Captain.”

There was, but he decided to ignore the comment. “I’d like to speak to you, in private. I’m not angered.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“What? No. Of course I’m not.”

“It was a joke.” Renarin reached for his own arm, looking down to the side. “I was… joking.”

An inauspicious start. “I’m not as familiar with the warcamps as I’d like to be. Where would you suggest for a private conversation?”

“The stables,” he said without hesitation.

“The… stables.”

“If you’d prefer somewhere— ”

“No.” He tried to smile. “The stables, then.”

It was a short walk. They attracted attention, of course. Kaladin hated it. He was a freak to them, a slave with ideas beyond his station— the legendary Kaladin Stormblessed.

At his side, a prince. Cousin to the king, son of the Blackthorn— and when he was staring at the ground like this, you could almost take him for a darkeyes. He carried himself with fear, bristling at every glance his way.

Renarin was easy to understand. Kaladin wasn’t sure he liked that.

They reached the stables soon enough. Renarin stepped inside.

“The hayloft,” he said, gesturing to a ladder. “When I wish to be alone, I…”

Kaladin nodded and climbed onto the ladder.

A hayloft was a bit crowded, filled with some thin, dry vine. Hay, then. It smelled strongly of plants, and the ceiling was low. Kaladin crouched and sat in a bare patch on the floor, waiting until Renarin followed.

Renarin sat. He was silent.

Kaladin shifted. “Renarin,” he asked, looking up. “Who handled you roughly?”

“What?” He froze, clenching fists in the hay. “If— captain, if you think any of your men have done _anything_ untoward, I assure you—”

“No,” he said softly. “I saw what happened last night. You were afraid. I _know_ that fear. I want to know who taught it to you.”

“Lopen?” Renarin pulled in on himself, then looked up to Kaladin. “I was surprised. Nothing more. I swear.”

“I’ve _seen_ you.” He moved in closer. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re afraid. So am I. Tell me who did this.”

“Nobody did this. Nobody hurt me.” He looked Kaladin dead in the eye. “I was surprised. I promise, that is all.”

He grabbed Renarin’s upper arm.

Renarin’s jaw clenched. He forced himself achingly still.

“I’m sorry.” Kaladin pulled away, further back. “I shouldn’t have…”

“I promise you, captain,” Renarin said softly, rubbing at his arm, “I _am_ fine.”

He took a deep breath. “Just tell me it wasn’t your father.”

“What?”

“Somebody did this to you, Renarin.” Kaladin looked up. “You don’t need to tell me. Almighty knows I wouldn’t tell you. Just tell me… tell me if he’s a good father. Tell me if I should have faith in him. I’ve spent too long believing in corrupt men. I won’t make a fool of myself again.”

Renarin ran his hand slowly down his arm.

Kaladin shut his eyes. It was. Of course it was. He’d been a fool, to think Dalinar Kholin was truly—

“My teachers,” Renarin said, a bare whisper. “I was… a distraction. Unable to stay still. Since I could not hold myself properly… they made me. Until I learned.”

“They grabbed you.”

“Until my hands could be still.”

Renarin’s hands were clenched, and still.

“It wasn’t my father.” He looked up. “I know the words of his son mean little, but he is a good man, and worth your faith.”

“The words of his son mean everything.”

He reached out his hand. Renarin took it.

“You’re not a fool,” he said.

“And you aren’t weak,” said Kaladin.

Renarin paused, for a moment. Then he nodded.

They climbed out of the hayloft, and walked away from the stables.

~

Bridge Four was dancing again.

Kaladin sat by the fire, watching alone. Others were singing, but not him tonight.

“Captain!”

He turned his head. There was Renarin, cheeks flushed from a little wine. He held his hand out, smiling softly. “Would you..?”

Kaladin stood. “Gladly.”

He reached out, and let Renarin take his hand.

They danced.


End file.
